Picture
by Sassybratt
Summary: AU: He blocked out her memory with faceless women. She stayed home and shut out reality. A single picture brought comfort to two broken hearts. One-shot


**Picture**

Rain pounded softly against the roof, sending a cascade of water over the window. A low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. The entire world was basked in dark grey, the late evening moving slowly towards sunrise.

A neon sign flashed through the night, its green and pink colors drawing attention to a small motel. It was a dingy place with cracked windows and the doors were falling of their hinges. It seemed more like a truck stop then a place to bed down for the night. None the less, the rent was cheap, which was all a wandering traveler needed. The parking lot was deserted except for a lone pick-up, the engine cold from lack of use.

The owner of the truck occupied room 126. It was the only room that hadn't been trashed by rain, insects, or any other natural devastation. Weary eyes gazed out at the falling rain, watching the array of patterns the shadows created on the bed covers. A dark-haired man sat in his bed with an old lamp being his only source of light. Numerous empty cans of beer occupied his bedside table, accompanied by a pack of smokes and a bottle of sleeping pills. A cigarette dangled from his lips.

Miroku glanced at the woman who accompanied him that night. Her platinum blond hair was sprawled out against his chest, her arm circling his waist to snuggle further into the warmth his body offered. The covers barely clothed her bare skin, the curve of her breast peeking from beneath the blanket. A veil of sweat still covered her body and all the time she had spent perfecting her make-up had gone to waste; mascara trailed down her cheeks and her lipstick was smeared around her plump lips.

Images of his body entwining with hers flashed through his mind, the moans that came from her throat ringing in his ears. He inwardly cringed at the sound. The woman beside him was so different from the girl his heart yearned for. He had hoped the differences would make him forget the heartache, but it hadn't worked, and now more then ever he wished for her soothing voice, her screams of pleasure as she came beneath him.

He took another long drag of his cigarette, feeling the burn of smoke as it infiltrated his lungs before retreating into the air in a haze of grey. "Hn," he grunted, taking the smoke out of his mouth and glancing at the tip. "All out." Without care, he tossed the finished stick at the nightstand, not paying attention if it made it into the crowded ashtray. Sighing deeply, he moved out from beneath the prostitute, careful not to wake her up. She had been drunk the night before and he was no good in dealing with strange women and hangovers.

The dark-haired man shuffled over to where his clothes were piled on the floor, quickly slipping on his boxers. Although it was early spring, it was hot and humid in the room, giving him little need for more clothing. He sat on the edge of the bed and placed his head in his hands, trying to clear the fogginess which occupied his mind. He regretted drinking so much the night before, as it seemed nothing more than a faded memory.

"Roku," the woman mumbled, stirring behind him. He felt himself stiffen as she rolled over and sat up, slinging her arms around his waist and burying her nose into the crook of his neck. "Wha're you doin'?" she slurred, overcome with drowsiness.

A sigh escaped his lips. "Just thinking," he responded, rubbing his hand down his face. The blond began to place kisses along his shoulder, trailing up to his neck and nibbling on his earlobe. He furrowed his brow in annoyance. "Not now ... " he said, forgetting her name. She was just another faceless woman keeping his bed warm for the night. In the morning, she would make her exit, leaving him to his thoughts once more.

She fanned her hands across his chest, rubbing down his muscles to touch his abs, pressing her breasts against his back. "Come on, baby," she whispered seductively into his ear. Her fingers played with the strap of his boxers, dipping below to touch his thighs before retreating once more.

He growled warningly. The prostitute ignored him, increasing her kisses and how far her hands went beneath his shorts. "I said no," he said sternly, grabbing her wrists and throwing them backwards. He turned around to glare at her. "It was only a one time thing," he replied to her shaken face. "I do not wish to have any thing more. Just take your money and leave."

The blond sat there a moment, grabbing the sheets to cover her naked form. "I see," she mumbled softly, her eyes down-cast. Without any words, she stood up and made her way over to the dresser. She had felt the man had been distant when they had intercourse the night before. He called out another woman's name during the session, so she didn't truly believe anything could develop between them. Never the less, she felt intrigued by him, attracted even, and he made her feel alive, more so then any of her other clients.

She pulled on her lace underwear and matching bra, buttoned her jeans, and tugged on her jacket. Sitting on the bed, she slipped her feet into a pair of black boots and ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to straighten it. Making her way over to the dresser, she picked up the cash payment they had agreed upon the night before and slipped it into her jacket.

Her crystal blue eyes found the small picture frame sitting near Miroku's things, something she had missed when they had tangled around in the sheets hours earlier. With a heavy sigh, she knew the woman in the photo was who he desired. Biting her lip, the blond picked up the silver frame and placed it on the bed beside him. "You know," she said quietly, noting how he had placed his head in his hands once more. "You shouldn't give up on her." With those parting words, the woman smiled, offering her condolences, before slipping out of the room and disappearing into the grey morning.

Miroku waited until the click of her boots faded away before pulling his hands away from his face. His eyes found the picture frame beside him and a dull ache burst forth in his chest. The young brunette in the picture had a blush on her face as she embraced him. The photo had been taken a few months into their relationship and they had been very happy with one another. How had things turned out like this?

He took the silver frame into his hands and stared at her. His heart continued to beg him to reunite with her, to run to their old apartment and take her into his arms, placing kisses along her throat and mumbling his apologies. But his mind refused to acknowledge those feelings, knowing there was a slim chance she would even bother to take him back. Maybe he should ignore the prostitute's words and move on. Or maybe, he should take a leap of faith and believe that somewhere in his lover's heart, the spark of love still lingered, lighting his way back home.

X.x.X.x.X.x.X

Sunshine glistened against the freshly fallen rain, causing the grass to shimmer like diamonds. Clouds were absent in the cerulean sky and the scent of Spring hung in the breeze. A young woman sipped her tea gingerly, tasting the warm liquid as it slid down her throat. Her eyes watched the day's activities unfold. People milled about the small cafe and every now and then she could pick up pieces of their conversation. Someone was due to have a baby in a few weeks and a man behind her was undergoing a divorce. She smiled sadly, a dull ache throbbing in her chest.

A shiver crept down her spine as a cool breeze grazed her sleeveless arms. Why had she decided to wear a short-sleeved shirt? Especially after a rainfall. She took another sip of tea, hoping it would bring warmth to her. Her gaze traveled back to the city streets, watching as cars sped through the intersection and business men bustled down the sidewalks. She wondered what each person's life was like. Were they happy? Did they have regrets? Did they love someone they had no hope in marrying?

"Sango," a feminine voice called, drawing the woman from her thoughts. The brunette glanced up from her people-watching and set her sights on a young woman pushing her way to the small cafe. A dark-haired girl struggled to the small table and set down her bag with a huff. "Sorry I'm late. My meeting ran a bit over and then my mom had me run by the store. Hope you weren't waiting too long."

"No, its alright, Kags," she said, watching her best friend take a seat. Actually, she was already on her third cup and was thinking about returning to her apartment.

Kagome slipped off her jacket and set it upon the back of her chair. "So," she said, pushing her chair closer to the table and folding her hands. "How are you?"

Sango set down her tea and waved it aside. "I'm fine," she replied nonchalantly, knowing that it was a complete and total lie. "What's new with you?"

The ebony-haired woman saw right through her false facade. After all, they had been close friends since childhood. "Sango," she said softly, a sad smile perched upon her lips. "I can see the dark circles under your eyes and you're much skinnier since I last saw you." The brunette averted her gaze and took a sip of her drink, glad to have something to occupy her mouth and hands. "How long has it been?"

"Almost two months," she replied without hesitation, tracing her gaze over the worn wood of the table. A waitress came over, interrupting them from their conversation.

Kagome ordered a cup of tea and waited for the woman to be out of ear-shot before continuing. "Talk to me," she urged, wanting to understand her friend's pain. It had been a few weeks since they had last spoken, considering they had both been kept busy with their jobs and home life. It wasn't easy for them to get together often now a days.

"I miss him," Sango replied quietly, her eyes instantly stinging with the threat of tears. "The apartment feels so empty without him."

"I thought Kohaku moved in," she prodded. The woman's brother had decided to move in after the heartbreaking tragedy, if only to be there for his older sister.

She nodded. "Yeah, he did. It put such a strain on his college studies that I told him to leave. Took a bit of persuading, but he finally agreed only if I allowed him to come down on the weekends."

"That's good," Kagome replied, smiling in spite of the situation at hand. "I'm glad to see some normalcy."

Sango nodded absentmindedly, not really hearing what her friend said. Instead, she released her death-grip on her cup and picked up her purse that had been hanging on the back of her chair. "Yeah, I guess so," she mumbled, digging around in her bag's contents. Finally finding what she was looking for, the brunette took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, immediately placing a white stick between her lips.

A frown appeared across Kagome's lips. "You're smoking?" she asked in disbelief, watching her pained friend light the cigarette and take a long drag.

She glanced at it, letting a wisp of smoke escape her lips. "Yeah, things are addicting."

The waitress returned with the cup of tea and placed it on the table, ignoring their conversation. Kagome left her cup untouched. Instead, she stared at the woman across from her. As minutes passed and smoke began to hover in the nearby air, she could no longer take the torment. In one swift motion, she had risen from her seat, reached across the table, and swiped the cigarette from her fingers.

"Are you crazy?" she hissed, trying to keep others from looking in their direction. Sango watched as the dark-haired girl threw the nicotine stick on the ground and smashed it with her foot. With her eyes blazing with rage, Kagome sat down and glared at her. "Look at you! You're falling apart!"

"No I'm not," the brunette argued, her voice cracking. It took a lot to get Kagome angry and to see her friend so upset because of her ...

"Yes you are," Kagome replied fiercely. "You're bones are poking through your skin, you have bags under your eyes, and rarely do you go outside anymore. Just because you kicked some guy out of your apartment doesn't mean you can just give up!"

Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. "He wasn't just some guy," she said, clutching her hands into fists on her lap.

Her friend bit back a retort and withdrew her angered stance. Her eyes softened at the picture of Sango falling apart at the seams. "Listen," she tried again, her voice quiet and free of rage. "I understand that you still love him, but it was _your_ decision to let him go. _You _were the one that told him you never wanted to see him again." If only Sango knew what he did behind closed doors.

The brunette sighed. "I know." She lifted her gaze to peer at the girl across from her. "How is he?"

Kagome cringed. She knew Sango would ask, but hadn't counted on her questioning his whereabouts so soon. "He's still at the motel." She had seen him exiting his dingy room a few weeks earlier while taking an alternate route home. It had been night so she hadn't gotten a good look at his face, but she would know his truck anywhere. Since then she'd pass by every few days, if only for her friend's sake. But the various women that had walked through his door didn't exactly make Kagome happy.

"I see," Sango replied, averting her gaze to her tea. "I guess he's still upset with me."

The dark-haired business woman slumped in her seat. Words of reassurance ran through her mind, but what could she offer? Certainly she couldn't lie to the girl and get her hopes up if there was no chance of them being together once more. If any action was to be taken, it would have to be on their account, not hers.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the cool weather. A breeze blew over them and a bird chirped as it flew by. Sango's gaze was set outward into the city, continuing her people-watching. "How's the family?" she asked out of the blue, trying to change the topic of conversation.

Kagome, although surprised by the sudden question, answered after a brief moment of shock. "Well, Inuyasha is just as stubborn as ever. Mom and Souta are doing fine as well. The little brat is going to be graduating college in May. Can you believe it?" A small smile flitted across her lips at the thought of her younger brother. "Seems like just yesterday he was playing soccer in our front yard."

"Mhm," was the response she received. Sango wasn't really paying attention anymore. Her thoughts continued to wander back to a night two months earlier when her heartache had begun.

"Why don't we go do some shopping?" Kagome offered, hoping to ease her friend's dark thoughts. "I've got the rest of the day off and it would be nice to spend some time together."

A declined answer was perched on the tip of her tongue, but Sango paused before responding. Kagome was only trying to help and it wouldn't hurt to talk with her. Maybe it was just the remedy she needed. "Alright," she replied, forcing a smile.

"Great." They gathered their things and left money for the bill and tip before making their exit. Sango half-listened to what her companion said as they walked down the bustling sidewalks. She envied Kagome in more way then one. She seemed so full of life and ready to take on the world. Would she ever be like that again?

X.x.X.x.X.x.X

Miroku was jolted awake with a loud ring. It continued to invade his thoughts and even after he placed a pillow over his head, it did little to soothe the sound. "Damn it," he groaned, opening his red rimmed eyes to peer at the source. Pain flooded through his head from the light shining through the curtains and the hangover didn't help too much either. Slowly, he inched his way across his bed towards his night stand and fumbled for the phone. "Hello?" he greeted roughly once it was placed firmly against his ear. Thank goodness the sound had been silenced.

"Roku?" a man slurred on the other end. "Tha' you m'boy?"

The dark-haired man closed his eyes and turned to lay on his back. His fingers massaged the bridge of his nose in an attempt to soothe the growing ache. "What do you want?" he growled unceremoniously. He had a rough night and was in no mood to talk to old relatives.

"Ha ha! It s'you! 'ow long's it been?" The man on the other line was obviously drunk. It was no surprise, even this early in the morning.

"How the hell did you get this number, Mushin?" Miroku asked, ignoring the old man's question.

Silence played over the phone for a brief moment. "Well ... I ... " He struggled for an answer. "Don't 'eally 'member," he declared happily. "Why don't 'cha come down to th' bar 'nd have *hiccup* a 'ew beers."

Miroku sighed. "Drunk again, I see." He was ready to tell his childhood guardian off, but then the aches and pains from nights of drinking reminded him how great it would feel to forget all his misery. "I'll be there in a few." He slammed the phone into the receiver and laid in bed for a moment, pondering if he should go back to the comfort of sleep. The sunshine flowing into his room, however, had other ideas.

Unwillingingly, he rose into a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He rubbed his hand down his face and tried to stop the room from spinning. How he hated getting up to do something, but if drinking was involved, he was all for it. If only to ease the heartache.

Sluggishly, he made his way over to his dresser and slipped on a grey t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. He didn't care about how he looked. The bar was just down the street and if he dealt with the repercussions, he'd have more alcohol in his system within the hour.

"What's happened to you?" he asked himself quietly, remembering the years past. Never would he drink himself senseless and not have a care in the world. But he was a changed man.

Squinting his eyes, he stepped out of his motel room and held up his hand to block out the sunlight. He shut the door behind him and began his feeble attempt to walk to the bar. The place he was staying at was just on the outside of the city. Skyscrapers lingered in the distance and he stumbled along the road counting the minutes until a bottle of whiskey was at his lips. He thought about trying to hail a taxi, but the ride would only make his stomach sick. Besides, he needed time to move his stiff joints and allow his mind to clear.

It seemed as if hours had passed as he stumbled along the various streets under the burning sun. To him it was more like a desert then a busy city such as Tokyo. None the less, he finally made it to the inner city and the bar was just around the next couple of corners.

He was so close to relief, so close to forgetting the heartache and misery that had befallen him. But the gods refused to give him such an easy exit. Although his brain was fogged by alcohol and his eyesight was blurred, he could never forget a single line etched into her perfect face.

A woman with dark brown hair was walking towards him, her smile seemed strange and her eyes were darker than they used to be. His heart began pounding furiously in his chest and he quickly glanced around for a place he could duck into. There was no way in hell he would allow her to see how much the break-up had affected him. That is, until he heard his name. "Hey Miroku."

X.x.X.x.X.x.X

Sango couldn't believe it. No sooner had she and Kagome stopped talking about the man who was the source of her heartache then she had to go and blurt out his name. Wait a minute ... did she just greet him?

The brunette's heart pounded furiously in her chest and a lump lodged in her throat. Her gaze was focused on her friend's face, having yet to see this mysterious man who held the same name as her lover. Maybe they were two different people that Kagome knew. But the more she thought about it, the more it seemed highly unlikely.

Seconds ticked by and she heard no response from him and thought it rude to pretend he wasn't there. With an intake of air, Sango swiveled her eyes to the man who had caused her such turmoil. Her breath hitched in her throat.

He appeared as if he would fall over any minute and he seemed frantic to be anywhere but there. His eyes were blood-shot and bags hung underneath his lower lids. He hadn't shaved in some time and his hair was mussed. She could only assume he had a rough few nights.

"Hello," he greeted, startling her out of her stupor. She hadn't realized how long she had been staring.

She forced a smile and met his tired gaze. "Good morning, Miroku," she replied softly. The happiness in her voice was strange on her tongue. Was she faking it? Or were these feelings real? "How have you been?"

He smiled crookedly. "I'm fine," he lied, trying to straighten out his shirt without her noticing. "What about you? Are you doing okay?"

Sango nodded. Although she appeared to be happy, Miroku could see pass her false exterior. Her hair had no bounce and her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. And if he looked closely, her skin seemed to almost hang on her bones, that's how skinny she had become. He guessed the break-up hadn't been a good result for either of them.

Kagome glanced between her two friends, noticing the way they stared at one another and how the conversation had completely dropped. "So," she prodded, hoping to play matchmaker. Although she vowed to stay out of the middle of the two, how could she turn her back on friends in need? Especially when an opportunity brought itself about. "We were going to hit the mall and grab a bite to eat. Would you like to join us?" She pointedly ignored the somber and shocked look Sango gave her.

Miroku hid his surprise with ease. "I apologize, ladies," he said, trying to keep up his charms. "I am on my way to meet a relative. Maybe some other time?"

The hope fading from her eyes, Kagome nodded. "Of course. See you around." Knowing there wasn't anything else that could be done, she and Sango stepped pass the man and disappeared into the busy sidewalks.

"See you," he whispered to the empty air, not even bothering to glance behind him. With a sigh, he continued towards the bar.

X.x.X.x.X.x.X

That night, Miroku sat on the side of his bed with his head in his hands. Even though he had gone to the bar with Mushin earlier, thoughts of his beloved Sango made the aspect of drinking rather unappetizing and he left soon after his arrival. He slept off his initial hangover through the better part of the day and when he awoke, the sky was dark and stars twinkled in the midnight sky.

He was debating on whether or not he should give her a call. Already he had picked up the phone and dialed quite a few times, only to hang up before the first ring. Such a coward, that's what he was. His heart yearned for her presence, but his already shattered pride couldn't take the rejection that was sure to come.

With a sigh, he fell back onto his bed so he was staring at the ceiling with his legs hanging off the side. Memories of the day they met swirled around in his mind and he smiled. They had been at the park. He was passing through with Inuyasha when a soccer ball sucker-punched his friend in the stomach. Immediately, two girls had come running over, calling out apologies and looking at the men fearfully, as if they would hurt them for such an accident.

Of course, Inuyasha wasn't as forgiving as Miroku, but it turned out okay in the end. After some fighting between Inuyasha and Kagome for a time, they soon became real close and had eventually gotten engaged. Sango, on the other hand, did not take well to Miroku's lecherous behaviors and it took much more effort to win her heart over.

But never the less, the two fell deeply in love and had stayed that way for a long time. He had proposed to her only a year after they met and was delighted when she had agreed. That wasn't too long ago. They hadn't even set a wedding date. And now she was gone.

He had already tried to forget about her, but it was of no use. Every time he closed his eyes or let a thought linger too long, he was reminded of the spunky brunette who knew no boundaries, who fought for what she believed in and kept him in line with his cursed hands, who had won his heart with a single dazzling smile.

A sad grin tugged at the corner of his lips. Maybe he would forever wallow in misery with her memory, stuck in a point in time which happiness would never bloom again. Or maybe, just maybe, he could take a leap of faith, believe in his heart, and surrender to her every will.

With an exasperated sigh, he sat up, picked up the phone, and dialed.

X.x.X.x.X.x.X

A bedside lamp was the only source of light; its dull glow fell softly over the room, causing shadows to appear in every corner. The curtains were drawn against the invading moonlight, closing out the world.

Sango sat on the edge of her bed, already dressed in her pajamas. She had returned from the day out with Kagome hours earlier, but had yet to find comfort in sleep. It seemed it had become a rather common occurrence. Her dark brown hair hung flat against her back and her facial expression was pinched and worn. She had tried to get some work done on a big project that was due in a few weeks for her boss, but her concentration seemed to be lacking. All day Miroku had been present in her thoughts and she couldn't help but recall how her heart had fluttered when they met him in the city.

Those feelings were false, she decided. It had been _her_ decision to kick him out and break off the engagement. So why did she feel so empty inside?

With a sigh, she glanced down at the object she held. She fingered the silver frame delicately, grazing her hands over its intricate design. Although it was beautiful with the glistening color and spiraling patterns, its what was held within it that caught her eye.

A photo was poised in the center. Sango smiled sadly at the couple, glancing over the man's lopsided grin and the woman's blush. She could recall that day. Her and Miroku were on their official third date at the beach and he had decided he loved her in a bikini. Such a corrupted man he was with his perverted hands, but in the end she had grown to love him.

The sting behind her eyes warned her of forthcoming tears, but this time, she did not resist the urge to cry out her heartache. They swam in her auburn eyes before falling down her flushed cheeks to drip soundlessly of her chin. Whimpers escaped her lips and soon she found herself bawling, the photograph becoming blurred behind the tears. "Why?" she asked quietly, placing the picture on her nightstand. "I love you, I never wanted you to go," she wailed, crying out her heartache and secrets. Was she wrong to have sent him away? Was she wrong in loving him after their relationship had ended?

A few moments passed as she allowed her tears to run their course. Before she knew it, her eyes had drawn to the phone on the nightstand and she couldn't help but gaze longingly at it. Kagome had given her the number for the motel Miroku was staying at and told her to give him a call. Sango had refused, but kept the number tucked away.

Biting her lip, she reached over and took the cordless phone out of its cradle, her heart pounding in her chest. "I'll just see what room number he's in," she said quietly, as if to make sure she followed orders and did not stray from her initial task. As she was about to punch the first number, the phone began ringing, startling her.

Sango shrieked and tossed the phone on the bed beside her. It took a brief second for her to realize what was happening. Her eyes quickly swiveled to the clock. It was just after midnight. Who would be calling so late? Hesitantly, she crawled over to the phone and glanced at the caller id. It was an unknown number.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, took a deep breath and pressed 'talk,' bringing it up to her ear in the process. "Um ... hello?" she inquired softly. There was silence on the other end. "Hello?" she repeated, quite confused. "Is anyone there?"

Just as she was about to chalk it up to a prank call and hang up, someone spoke. "Sango?" a male voice said over the ear piece.

Her heart missed a beat. "M-Miroku?" she questioned, confusion mixing with her emotional desires to be with him.

"Yeah," he replied sheepishly. "Its me."

For a moment, she was speechless. Could it really be a coincidence that he called her only seconds before she dialed his number? "How are you?" she decided to say after fumbling for a response.

He sighed on the other line. "Truthfully, I have had better days."

"I know what you mean," she responded softly with a smile. She sat against her headboard and bent her knees. "To be honest, I was just about to call you."

"Really? I guess the same thing has been on your mind as well."

She closed her eyes, relishing in the sound of his voice. "Yeah ... I guess so."

He stared out his hotel room window, watching the trees sway softly in the breeze. "I miss you," he finally confessed, his voice almost a whisper.

"Me too," she replied, glancing over at the picture once more.

A contented breath of relief escaped. So she had been having similar thoughts. "We both have been struggling with this."

"Do you think it was a mistake?" she asked, a lump lodging in her throat.

"No, I don't," he whispered dejectedly. "I believe I was taking advantage of you. Had I been more considerate towards your feelings then none of this would have happened. A lesson had to be taught."

The tears faded in her eyes at his declaration. She had taken all of the blame and had been weighed down heavily with the burden for the past two months. Although she still believed the fault was her own, it felt nice to share the guilt. She wasn't alone. "I suppose."

"You know, Sango, I still love you," he stated. "Those feelings never went away, though try as I might to forget."

Her heart dropped. "You tried to forget me?"

"Yeah," he said softly, embarrassed by the actions he had taken. "The agony was too painful to bear and I tried to drown my memories in whiskey." She closed her eyes and glanced towards the picture. She knew it was too good to be true. He wouldn't dare take her back after all the heartache she had been put through. "But I couldn't do it." Her eyes widened. "Your memory haunted my every thought and not even hours of drinking could clear you completely from my mind."

"Miroku ... " she whispered, awestruck by his confession. Silence ensued between them for some time before she worked up the courage to respond to his previous statement. "I love you, too."

"I was hoping you'd say that," he replied. She could hear the smile in his voice.

"So where do we go from here?" Sango wiped her cheeks dry.

He sighed. "I don't know."

"Do you ... " She hesitated in asking him, unsure of his reaction. "Can you move back in?"

The dark-haired man seemed taken aback by her invitation. After a second to contemplate, his shoulders and muscles relaxed in relief. "I'd love that," he replied with a smile.

"Well then," she said quietly, relieved in the same manner. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Of course. Goodnight, Sango."

"Goodnight, Miroku," she replied. Biting her lip to hold back the wide grin, she placed the phone back into its cradle and settled herself beneath the covers.

The heartache she had been enduring since two months earlier seemed to have disappeared completely, only to be replaced by pure hope. When everything was lost and she believed her world to be crumbling beneath her, a leap of faith brought her fairytale to life. For the first time since their breakup, she was able to close her eyes and fall asleep. Her dreams were filled with nothing but the man she loved and the future they would share.

A/N: Inspired by the song 'Picture' sung by Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow.


End file.
